


August Rains

by blueberrynewt



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Happy Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Home, M/M, Multi, Old Married McSpirk, Rain, everything is soft and warm and lovely, just some quality time with the husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 20:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21344386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberrynewt/pseuds/blueberrynewt
Summary: Leonard discovers he loves the rain.Just some rainy day fluff and warmth where everyone is happy and in love.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 20
Kudos: 62





	August Rains

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello I am sorry for my long absence! it'll still be a while before my WIPs are updated, because I really feel like I need to be reunited with my computer before I can work on them properly. but it was raining here the other day and I thought, "I should write some cozy rainy day mcspirk," and today I had an opportunity to do so, and here we are. please enjoy, and if you are fortunate enough to be somewhere rainy right now, take the opportunity to enjoy a hot beverage and cuddle up with your favorite people.

Leonard never realized just how much he missed the rain.

He's got a list of things he goes over in his head when the emptiness of space seems to hollow him out, things that fill him with the warm tingle of home. Sunlight on the orchards, warm peach cobbler with ice cream, the hammock in Gran’s backyard where he used to drowse with his cousins when they were little — or, later, with a good book and a cold mint julep. Jo’s toothy smile, the strength of his mother's hugs. He thinks of these things when he needs them, lets the feeling of them flood through him, lingers in nostalgia until he can bear to endure the present for a little longer. He's worn them thin with years and years of longing.

Rain never made the list. Leonard always preferred sunny days to wet ones, and it didn't occur to him to miss the drizzles and downpours of Earth — the mud and the squelchy shoes and the damp hair sticking to his forehead, the tickle of water running down his nose or his back. He was just fine without any of that, he figured.

But by God, this storm touches something inside him he'd long since forgotten was there. Rain lashes against the windows, patters on the roof, and Leonard doesn't think twice before he slips out the back door and runs through the yard, splashing with each step, until he reaches the trees. He could be nine years old again, running through the orchard with his cousins in a summer storm just like this one, clambering up the trees and daring each other higher while thunder rumbled overhead.

Leonard is too old and creaky for climbing trees now, but that hardly matters. What matters is the rhythm of rain on his skin, the way leaves gleam under a layer of water, the little beads that gather at the tip of each leaf and drop to the ground. Leonard can hear all of it, _feel_ all of it, and Lord, he hasn't felt this alive in a good long while.

Lightning flashes and Leonard laughs aloud, knowing that no one can hear him above the rain. A gust of wind snatches at his jacket and he takes it off, waving it above his head like a flag, like a challenge. The rain is warm against his skin. The roll of thunder brings another sound, the splash of footsteps in the yard, and Leonard turns to see Jim coming toward him, grinning fit to burst with his hair already plastered to his forehead and water spraying behind him with each step.

“Bones!” he yells, and “Jim!” Leonard calls back, and he opens his arms to take hold of his husband and kisses him hard, with the rain pouring down their faces and into both their mouths. They're both laughing.

Jim kisses a drop of water off the tip of Leonard’s nose and says in his ear, “Good storm!”

“I love the goddamn rain!” Leonard shouts, and laughs again. “Did you know that? I sure didn't!” Jim laughs too, and Leonard puts his face in the crook of Jim's neck to breathe in the rain-soaked scent of him, and lightning strikes again, a little closer this time.

Then the rain lightens suddenly, shifting from a full-on deluge into something a little steadier. Jim kisses Leonard’s temple and down the line of his cheekbone, then says, “We ought to go inside, I think Spock is worried you'll get hypothermia out here.”

Leonard scoffs at that, but lets Jim steer him back toward the house. “I'm the doctor 'round here,” he says, “and _I'll_ decide when I do or don't get hypothermia.”

“Hm,” Jim says noncommittally. “And what is your medical opinion, Doctor?”

Leonard raises an eyebrow at him. “That I'm also a McCoy, and we're made of sterner stuff than Commander Hobgoblin in there seems to think.”

Jim grins. “Believe me, Bones, we both know just how stern you can be. Give the man a break, his whole planet is a desert.”

“I can't give Spock a break, our constant bickering is what holds this relationship together.”

Leonard pulls open the door and they step inside to stand dripping on the mat. Inside the warm house, the rain clinging to him feels a lot colder. Spock, standing by the counter, silently raises a perfect eyebrow and passes Jim a drying unit, which Jim runs over both their bodies until their clothes and hair are as dry and warm as if they'd never gone out into the storm.

Leonard sniffs the air and beams at Spock. “Is that cocoa I smell?”

“Indeed.” Spock is already ladling it into mugs. He hands one to Leonard first, but Leonard sets it aside so he can wrap his arms around Spock’s neck and smile against his neck. After the briefest of pauses, Spock’s arms come around him in return, and Leonard’s smile widens.

“I love you, you green-blooded beanpole,” he says, closing his eyes. Spock radiates heat, and Leonard finds he has never been more at home than he is now, with the _tap-tap-tap_ of rain on windowpanes and the smell of cocoa filling the air and his husband's warm, inhumanly strong arms so gentle around him.

“Ashayam,” Spock murmurs, and raises one hand to trail it through Leonard’s hair, fingertips brushing his scalp. The touch makes Leonard shiver, and he takes a last deep breath before pulling away and retrieving his cup of cocoa.

Jim has already sprawled on the couch with his own mug, and when Leonard joins him Jim tosses a leg over his, grinning at him over his cocoa. Spock sits on Leonard’s other side, and holds out a flask. Leonard takes it, unscrews the cap, and sniffs. He laughs.

“Well, Spock, I didn't think you could be _more_ perfect, but this about does it.” He pours a generous splash of the whiskey into his cup and passes the flask to Jim.

Spock’s eyebrow goes up again. “The idea of 'perfection' is an unrealistic and unachievable ideal, which I am certain I do not —”

“Shut up and take a compliment, darlin’,” Leonard says amiably, and drinks deep. Warmth floods through him from head to toe, and he sighs as every muscle in his body seems to quiver, then relax. He leans sideways to rest his head against Spock’s shoulder, and closes his eyes.

Outside, rain still rushes down, thunder crashes, and wind rattles the branches of the trees. But in here, there is only warmth and comfort, and the profound sense that after everything the three of them have been through, all the years of pain and fear and impossible decisions, they've ended up exactly where they're supposed to be. Together.


End file.
